I have to be honest: most of my female friendships these days exist on my phone. I rely on voice messages, video chats, and texts to connect with the amazing women in my life, but it often feels like I’m missing out on real-life moments—hugs, hangouts, or just doing silly things together.
Earlier this year, I moved across the country for a while to get some family support while raising my little ones. However, even when I lived near my closest friends, we hardly saw each other. Those without kids were caught up in their careers, relationships, and adventures, while the moms were trying to juggle the chaos of parenting. I found myself stuck between both worlds, yearning to maintain a creative outlet outside of my family life, which often felt impossible. Like many stay-at-home moms, I struggled to find fulfilling work while orbiting around my partner’s full-time job.
Motherhood has been isolating and tough, but it has also given me an odd sense of relief from the pressure of vulnerability that comes with in-person friendships. Sure, there were times I craved a good pep talk or an evening filled with laughter and wine, but avoiding the pressure to constantly be “on” has its comforts. I realized that being away from my friends allowed me to sidestep potential conflicts or discomfort, and that felt strangely liberating, especially when I’ve always found it challenging to let women into my heart.
If you were to ask my therapist, she’d probably point out the psychological reasons behind my struggles with female friendships. She’d be right, and I’d probably get annoyed (just kidding). Coming to terms with my unique upbringing has been a journey, one that feels akin to running a marathon without any training.
My first best friend was my mom, and while that might sound sweet to some, it came with its own set of complexities. Growing up, I felt loved and supported by her, yet I also felt an immense pressure to never disappoint her. I was conditioned to share every thought and feeling, often feeling more like an extension of her than a separate individual. My mom struggled with her mental health, and that dynamic deeply affected my ability to form friendships with other women.
From the outside, I appeared to be achieving everything: straight A’s, a fit body, and a pleasant demeanor. But beneath that facade, I was a perfectionist desperately trying to be the daughter and friend my mom needed. I often found myself stepping in for her during tough moments and prioritizing her feelings over my own. This created a cycle where I used my mom as my sole moral compass, seeking her approval before making decisions.
Despite the tumultuous moments, there were positive experiences that kept me tied to my mom. She was supportive and encouraging, always there to help with schoolwork or to nurture my ambitions. Yet, the volatility of our relationship made it hard to open up, leaving me paralyzed with fear of vulnerability. Each time I shared something personal, it felt like I was setting myself up for potential hurt.
As a child, I internalized the message that if my mom was upset, it must be my fault for not being the perfect child. This led me to mold myself into a person who would never disappoint her, and I kept my friendships at arm’s length, terrified of letting anyone see my true self.
The struggles I faced in my youth have shaped my adult relationships. I’ve either shied away from forming deep connections or rushed into friendships only to pull away out of fear and embarrassment. I’ve neglected to communicate with friends, taken things too personally, and avoided forming new friendships because I believed I was destined to disappoint them. The fear of becoming too enmeshed with someone, like I had with my mom, loomed large.
Recently, I hit rock bottom and was diagnosed with complex PTSD. Sharing this with my friends felt empowering, and they responded with incredible support during my darkest days. For the first time, I’ve felt the importance of being there for my friends and letting them be there for me. I’ve learned to embrace my vulnerabilities, and it’s been a remarkable experience.
I want to take a moment to express my gratitude to the wonderful women in my life—Sarah, Lena, Emma, and Mia—thank you for your unwavering support and love. I know I’m still learning how to be a friend, but I trust that we can navigate this journey together.
I may not have chosen my past, but I’m choosing my present, which includes amazing women by my side.
If you’re navigating similar struggles, I encourage you to explore the healing power of friendships. For more insights on relationships, check out this article on home insemination. For expert advice on parenting and support, visit Intracervical Insemination. And for scientific insights, Science Daily is an excellent resource on fertility and health.
In summary, navigating female friendships can be challenging, especially when shaped by complex family dynamics. However, with support and vulnerability, it’s possible to build meaningful connections.